


all men are pigs (i'm not so typical)

by teddy_the_bear03



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Trans rights, fuck you jeff is trans, trans jeff, what are you gonna do about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddy_the_bear03/pseuds/teddy_the_bear03
Summary: a series of joyful vignettes about the study group realizing jeff is trans.
Relationships: Britta Perry/Jeff Winger
Comments: 21
Kudos: 82





	all men are pigs (i'm not so typical)

_Troy_

Good god, he had to use the bathroom.

This is the third time the thought has passed his mind as he holds a staring contest with the men’s bathroom door - tall, looming and incredibly validating. As strange as it was, he felt like a kid in a candy store whenever he entered; it felt forbidden in a way, like he was an undercover agent and this was his first mission, his hope that he was passing the lasers that grazed his head. It had been years since he’d been misgendered, and even longer since he’d been unable to enter the men’s room - but still, every single time without  _ fail _ he’d feel his chest compress in what he now knows to be shame.

His watch is gripped between the fingers on his opposite hand - he plays absentmindedly with the latch, eyes still trained on the small blue symbol of what was meant to be a man emblazoned on the door in front of him. If he was going to have this dilemma three times in a day, maybe he was better off scrapping a water bottle instead of subjecting himself to whatever strange form of psychological torture this was. He’s about to back away, deciding that maybe holding it was the best way to end this one-sided standoff, when he hears footsteps to his left.

What does he do? God, he looks like a creep, standing out of the bathroom - does he stand still, or does he hastily push his way in? Maybe he could act like he was leaving? But it was too late, now, and the footsteps come closer until they’re right next to him, clad in sneakers. His breath hitches in his chest, and it takes longer than he’s willing to admit to face the one who’d caught him - and all of it rushes out when he realizes it’s Troy, smiling broadly (and a little confusedly) at him.   
  
They stand together in silence until Troy begins doing what could only be described as  _ The Potty Dance. _

“Why are we standing here?” He asks, and Jeff struggles to answer when the other simply does it for him. “Is there a monster in there? Oh, man, do we need to kill it so we can pee?”

“No, we do not need to  _ kill it _ ,” Jeff says with fond resignation, despite the fact that if looks could burn, that door would’ve been smoldering a long time ago. “There’s no monster to begin with.”

Troy looks a little disappointed. “Aw, that’s okay. What are we doing out here, then?”

The nodes on the watch fall shaded under the pressure of Jeff’s thumb. “Well, I was just about to use the bathroom, so…”

The athlete raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been gone for five minutes, dude. Are you sure?”

“I had to get water first,” Jeff lies, and he doesn’t know if Troy legitimately buys it or if he just drops it - he’d left a half-empty plastic one on the table in the study room, but in all honesty, it was viable Troy hadn’t noticed it at all. Regardless, the other shrugs and strides into the lavatory with the nonchalance Jeff wished he’d had.

The lights are too bright and bounce off the tile with a glare that makes Jeff’s head hurt. Troy makes his way to a urinal, shoulders relaxed, while Jeff, trying to make himself as small as possible, slinks into a stall and tries to breathe normally. This was  _ fine _ , he was  _ fine _ , it was just two guys being dudes and he, a cis man, had absolutely nothing to worry about. The stall feels like it’s closing in on him - the vignette of his vision seems to be narrowing, the edges spotty and black, and no, he  _ can’t _ be panicking right now. There was nothing  _ to _ panic about - he was fine and using the bathroom and besides, Troy had nothing to pay attention to anyway.

Sitting down, his fingers turn to butter and his blood runs cold - his dick, his beautiful, beautiful dick, slips from his grasp and onto the floor. Horror sinks a heavy stone into his gut when it bounces in all its four-inch, silicone glory beneath his line of sight to where the stall ends and the rest of the bathroom begins, rolling along the linoleum right at the feet of the other in there with him.

He’s going to cry, oh my  _ god, _ Troy  _ knew _ and Troy would tell everyone and he’d be called a girl again, they’d make fun of him and slur at him and -

“Ayo, man! You drop your dick?”

Jeff blinks incredulously at the stall door, grey and graffiti of a phone number written in black sharpie on one corner. The words roll over in his mind, throat dry - what the fuck did he  _ say _ to that?

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I did.”

“No worries! I got it,” Troy chimes, and Jeff laughs under his breath. If he was being honest, he was thankful that it’d been Troy and no one else - he was pretty sure if it hadn’t been, he’d at least been pried open with a few sharp questions that dug deeper in the hollow of his chest than any kitchen knife could go.

“Thanks,” he mutters, and they sit in silence until they’re both finished and Jeff walks out of the stall, a hand coming up to run its way through gelled spikes. Troy catches his eye, flashing his thousand watt smile his way, before tossing him the silicone penis that Jeff called his own. The other catches it with reflex and the two of them stare at each other, Troy’s smile growing slightly confused before a look of recognition flashes across his face.

“Oh, shit, sorry! Should’ve given you privacy, my bad,” he says, and Jeff’s heart squeezes because there really wasn’t anyone as wholeheartedly genuine as Troy was. The athlete turns his back and Jeff makes quick work of adjusting it, and allows himself a secret smile as he watches Troy fidget, intent on giving the other as much time as needed. He clears his throat and Troy turns, tipping his chin upward, and they exit the bathroom in tandem.

They’re halfway down the hall when Jeff sighs anxiously, garnering Troy’s attention. “You aren’t going to tell anyone about what just happened, right?”

Troy’s lips turn downward. “What’s there to tell? My dick falls out of my pants sometimes, too.”   
  
Jeff snorts, shoving his arm lightly, and Troy says an amused, indignant “what?” before they enter the study room to the sound of Britta chewing Pierce out.

* * *

_ Annie _

  
The night is warm, and the night is dark. Streetlamps cast a sepia tone across the campus, bathing the world in soft light, and Jeff scours the area for students as he makes quick work of walking down the steps. It seemed as though he was entirely alone - while it was nice to walk in silence, it did send a shiver up his spine despite the fact that others were dealt a worse hand than him. He was a white man who passed excellently well for both straight and cis - and he wasn’t in any mood to change that perception of him.

He clutches his binders close to his chest, car parked a fair ways from the main building - this place was different when it was quiet, usually packed with people and chatter he shouldn’t have been listening into, but now all he could hear was the crickets among the trees and the rustle of the wind. He halfway believes he’s hallucinating when he hears people, his brain trying to fill in the gaps now pried open, but then he rounds the corner and sees folks with candles crowding the courtyard.

His breath hitches when he sees the pride flags - blue and pink and white, emblazoned on shirts and painted upon handheld signs, and he really isn’t sure of what to do. Part of him just wants to look the other way and bolt to his car to allow his hands to shake (his eyes to water, his brain to scream) in privacy, but more so he wanted to stay, at least wish them well and thank them for doing justice to a community no one knew he was part of.

He decides to give into the good wolf, just this once.

Straightening the leather of his jacket, he spots a cluster of plastic tables sporting what looked to be more signs, flags with plastic handles and pins with metal backings. He walks up to them, smiling amiably, and nods in acknowledgement to a few of them behind the stations - until he sees Annie, wearing a “Trans Lives Matter” shirt and eyeing him with interest. A lump forms in his throat, and he has no choice but to migrate to her table.

“Another one of these?” He asks, eyebrows raising, and she giggles.

“Something like that, yeah,” she replies, “Britta and Shirley aren’t here this time, though, so… It’s just me.”

Jeff nods. “I expected Shirley, but…”

“Britta said one of her cats was throwing up, and I decided it was better not to bother her.”

Jeff hums, busying his hands by moving the pins on the table into neater rows. They’re decorated with different patterns - a few just have the transgender pride flag, while others have pronouns and the word “resist” with the colors behind it. He doesn’t know what else to say, and even then couldn’t even begin to think of how he’d say it, so he begins to back away when she fixes him with a look that makes him stop in his tracks.

“Why are you here?” She asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and he swallows uncomfortably. He knew the answer damn well, had ever since he was twelve and begged his mom to let him cut his hair, but wasn’t incredibly keen on voicing it to her - it had always been something personal, a part of him that he  _ hated _ . He’s about to slip into that thought process, the one where he insists he should’ve never come, but he knows he’d much rather be outed than be a coward and steels himself.

“Oh, you know,” he leans against the table, feigning nonchalance, “I was passing through the area and thought I’d get my good karma for the day.”

“Is it mean to say that I wouldn’t expect that of you?” She laughs, and his jaw goes slack with mock hurt.

“You wound me,” he chuckles, and out of the corner of his vision, he sees trans pride wristbands in a pile to his left - he picks one up, stretching it experimentally, before slipping it onto his wrist. Raising a white flag to what thin veil of dignity he thought he had left, he picks out two pins, and clips them onto his jacket, exhaling gently. He felt… good - he felt anxious as all get out, but he felt good, and hell - he didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

Good freezes into dread when Annie points at his jacket with a nail-polish clad finger. “You’re gonna have to pay for those, you know.”

Jeff’s face flushes, and he pulls out his wallet. “How much are they, kiddo?”

“Five dollars.”

He pulls out the corresponding bill and hands it to her, gaze trained on the pavement below them both. She slides it into the cash register and it feels so  _ slow _ \- dread did that to him, made the world around him feel like molasses until the moment he was found out. He never wanted to ask himself what he was so afraid of - he knew the answer left him and his mother when he was fourteen.

“Do you have a trans friend? Or sibling?” Annie asks, jolting him out of his thoughts. He’d promised himself he’d stop lying, especially to the people closest to him - it was as good a time as any to start now.

“Nah,” he responds, beginning to walk away, “but something like that, sure.”

The next morning, when he walks into the study room still wearing one of the pins, she says nothing - instead, giving him a private smile that told him she knew what she needed to and didn’t mind at all. The warmth of validation blossoms in his chest and he, too, doesn’t mention it - some things were better off unsaid anyway.

* * *

_Abed_

“Hey, Abed?”

“What is it, Jeffrey?”

“How come you stayed in that room for twenty six hours?”

They’re both in the study room, Jeff sitting in his usual seat while Abed is curled on the couch on the other side of the room. It’s an old, ratty thing, but it’s comfortable - a comic book is spread on his lap, his eyes following the pictures as he clicks a fidget cube, and he looks completely uninterested in the man speaking to him.

“Annie told me to,” he states, “and I trusted her.”

Jeff looks up at him, eyebrows knitting together. “You weren’t pissed off?”

“Of course I was,” he replies instantly, “but the thought of leaving didn’t cross my mind. She told me to stay and I did it because I’m her friend and that’s what she wanted.”

Jeff makes a humming noise, a hand coming up to rub the stubble on his chin. “Why  _ is _ that?”

“Why is what?”

“Why didn’t you doubt her?”

Abed’s eyes lift from the page, and he studies Jeff for a moment before shrugging. “I process emotions differently than you or Troy do. When I’m told to do something by someone I trust, I do it, no questions asked. That’s just… how I go through life - it’s not weird to me because that’s the way it’s always been.”

“Have you ever tried to think…” Jeff cringes inwardly, not wanting to use the word  _ normally _ . “Like Troy or I?” God, he hoped he wasn’t upsetting Abed by talking about this.

“Emphasis on tried,” Abed responds, not at all fazed, “it’s just not possible for me. It affects everything I do - it’s a little hard to rewire that, especially because… to be frank, it can’t be done.” He moves on from clicking and begins pulling at one of the buttons absentmindedly. “I don’t mind it, really. I don’t get bullied for it much anymore.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, letting the words hang in the air and sink into their skin. Jeff was upset that he’d been bullied for being the way he was in the first place - and even more so because, despite the fact it was a long time ago, he’d been one of those people who did so. “What else does it affect?”

“Oh, you know,” Abed hums, “my gender identity, for one.”

Jeff inhales sharply. “No, I didn’t know.”

The fidget cube is in both Abed’s hands, now, fingers playing with two individual sides. His leg is bouncing. “Well, it’s true,” he begins, “because of the way I view things, my view of gender is obscured, too. The label of male was pushed upon me ever since I could remember and I just went with it - but when I thought about it, I didn’t  _ feel _ male.”

“That is to say you feel female?” Jeff leans forward in his seat, propping his chin up with his palm. His elbow balances on the table in front of him.

Abed laughs, amusement lighting up his features. “Not at all. I feel like neither.”

“Oh. Nice.” Jeff is pretty sure the lull in their conversation is one-sidedly awkward - in times like these, he struggled with words, and wished his law degree could help him scrounge up something meaningful to say. Abed, however, didn’t seem to mind - perfectly enthralled with his stim toy and honestly? Maybe Jeff could learn a thing or two from him. “Have you considered the label nonbinary?”

“What does it mean?”   
  
“It means you don’t feel male or female,” Jeff explains, “and you don’t feel comfortable fitting into one of those labels.”

Abed thinks for a moment, ministrations pausing for a fraction of a second before resuming again. “Yeah, I guess I relate to that.” He grins to himself. “More than male or female, definitely.”

Jeff smiles, too, leaning back in his chair to cross his arms in front of his chest. “Do you want me to use they/them pronouns for you, too?”

“Uhhh, no,” Abed replies, “he and him are okay. I don’t mind what you call me; in the end, it doesn’t change the way I feel about my identity, and…” He clicks faster, establishing a new rhythm. “In the end, that’s all that matters. I know I’m nonbinary, and that’s all I need.”

Jeff nods, despite the fact he’s pretty sure Abed isn’t looking at him. It surely wasn’t the conversation he was expecting, but maybe the one he needed to hear - when all things were said and done, Abed was incredibly intellectual, and Jeff was learning to value their conversations a lot more. There is… something he wants to ask, in spite of himself, and it slips past his lips before he can stop it.

“How do you feel about transgender people?”

The clicking stops and is replaced with deafening silence. Jeff looks up from the carpet to see Abed staring directly at him - his gaze is piercing and brimming with something deep enough to drown the other man. The lights of the study room bounce off the table and Jeff struggles not to squirm as Abed looks at him, his intent so clear he couldn’t look at it head on.

“I believe everyone is entitled to their own identity, and should  _ never _ feel ashamed about it.”

* * *

_Britta_

She presses him against the table, his stomach coming to hit against the edge of it as she holds him tightly. Their lips collide, a heated thing that makes electricity zing wherever she touches him - she never could keep her hands still, and they flounder around his shoulders as he holds onto her hips. She’s kissing him frantically, going after his lips like they were a lifeline and she was a starving sailor - Jeff can’t find it in himself to mind, matching her passion with equal fervor.

It’s hot and absolutely perfect until he starts smiling too hard enough to kiss back; and then Britta’s smiling too, a giggle leaving her lips as she breaks from it to hide her face into his shoulder, and the fondness that flows through him was something he never knew he’d even missed until this moment. His thumb rubs at her back, between her shoulder blades, and she relaxes further into his grip until he isn’t sure where he ends and she begins. Despite the glare of the study room being unforgiving, if Jeff closes his eyes he can imagine he’s somewhere more private with her, and exhales loudly when she begins to kiss his jaw.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, voice low and coarse like rolling thunder on a summer evening, and he feels her lips quirk up from where she is now below his ear. She hums against his skin, leaving shiny imprints of cherry chapstick wherever she went, and he can’t stop the pleased noise that escapes him when she sucks - not hard enough to leave a mark, but to make him a little dizzy from the heat pooling into his gut.

“I missed you, too,” she says, pulling away just enough so that she can look at him, her blue eyes fond. He reaches his hand up to brush her hair out of her face, so that he can see her, too, and his heart pounds with something like love when her rosy features come into perfect view. From the slope of her nose to the curve of her cheekbones, everything about her was gorgeous - her smile turns wry, flicking his forearm playfully, and then he realizes he’s been staring this whole time.

“How are you doing?” Jeff asks, quiet enough so that only the two of them could hear him, and he moves the palm of his hand to the back of her head so that he can pull her close, and she laughs against him when they kiss again.

“I’m okay,” she whispers against his lips, her hand dropping from his shoulder to begin tugging at his shirt, freeing it from the confines of his waistband. “No better now that I’m with you.” She says this in such a soft, lighthearted tone that Jeff knows she doesn’t mean it, that she never would - and yet he lightly shoves her, making them both chuckle.

“Really? By the looks of it, you seem pretty happy to be with me,” he quips back, but it really doesn’t land because right after, she leans down to take the skin of his neck between her teeth - prompting a soft whimper to be drawn from him as his hands come to clutch the fabric of her sweater. God, Britta knew how to play him like a damn fiddle, plucking his strings until he was shaking - and he certainly didn’t mind singing for her.

“Thought I was supposed to be the psychologist,” she teases, and his shirt is finally loose from his pants - her hands waste no time in sneaking up to hold his waist, pressing at the muscles beneath the skin of his abdomen, and he melts into her touch with a happy sigh. He reaches up to grasp her chin, swallowing when she looks at him with those endless blue eyes before kissing her again - she sighs into it, both of them pliant beneath each other, but the moment quickly shatters when her fingers roam too high and brush one of the long scars beneath his pec.

He jerks away, body going rigid, and he pushes her hands out under his shirt - her face flashes with hurt, unsure of what exactly she did wrong, and she watches him as he wraps his arms around himself, mouth kiss swollen and turned downward. 

She reaches out to him, brushing his forearm with cautious reverence, and he flinches away the first time before allowing the second. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” He uncrosses his arms, lips pressing together as he tries to come up with any semblance of words to describe how he’s feeling - how he feels as though he’s lied to Britta this entire time, how she never knew who he was as a child, why his dad hated him so much. “I don’t…”

He gestures vaguely to… all of himself, cringing directly after and opting for sitting upon the table’s surface. He can’t look at Britta, doesn’t have the courage to - either she was confused beyond belief or she knew, and she was disgusted, and she’d never talk to him again, and -

She’s in front of him, caressing his face so that he’ll look at her. He slowly swivels his gaze to her, cornflower meeting ocean, and he exhales when he sees how tender her own gaze is. She strokes his stubble, and he leans into the touch, and then she kisses him - so gentle and so personal he wants to cry, wants to sob hold her close and never let go. But he doesn’t, simply allows himself to be caught in her orbit, and wills himself to not quiver when her hands find his stomach again.

“May I?” She asks, softer than the linen sheets they sleep on, and he nods before she brings her hand up, gently tracing the scar that graces his right pectoral. He lets out a choked noise and she freezes, but he grasps her arm and pushes it back -  _ it’s okay. You’re allowed to know. _

They stay there, holding each other like that, for longer than Jeff can remember. No words were exchanged between them - there wasn’t any need for them to be. Britta understood and Britta loved him regardless and he didn’t need her to tell him just to reiterate that.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for clicking on my little fic! i hope you all enjoyed it and thank you for reading all the way through. i'm so happy jeff is canonically trans and i am so proud of him. have an amazing day, dear reader! x


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